


Stardust and Silver Linings

by PaintedVelaris



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Slow Burn, Waiting For Godot References, Waiting for Godot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 19:59:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16709065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintedVelaris/pseuds/PaintedVelaris
Summary: Mor has been cast in her cousin Rhys’ adaption of the famous play ‘Waiting for Godot’ as one of the main characters. She’s been acting for as long as she can remember and this could be her big break - that is, if her heart doesn’t ruin it for her...Elain’s dream is to make it as a playwright and she has been in love with theater since she was a little girl. When her sister’s boyfriend Rhys offers her a part in his latest play, she takes the opportunity to learn more about the world of theater, not expecting to find the love of her life on the very same stage...





	Stardust and Silver Linings

Though the Theatre of Wind was rather unimpressive in the rain, Elain had never been as nervous as while she was standing in front of it, waiting for her first rehearsal.

She’d been here before once, to see a play with her sisters, but that had been years ago and she hadn’t paid much attention to the building itself. Now, she had nothing to do but wait until someone opened the door, so she had plenty of time to examine the playhouse - especially considering she was way too early.

The Theatre of Wind was several storeys high, made of stone that was once white but turned yellow years ago. There were several windows, though only the ones on the top floor weren’t covered with posters. Above the door was an empty area where the sign for their play should be. It hadn’t been made yet, but Elain had seen her sister’s designs for it, and it was going to be beautiful. 

The dark brown doors were closed, as was the smaller door next to it. She assumed they’d be using that one: what was the point of using the main entrance, which was meant for guests, if they’d be practicing without an audience? 

She stood in front of the main entrance, thankful for the small ledge above her head to keep her from getting even wetter. She was even more grateful for the fact that, on Monday morning at 9:00 a.m., nobody else was using this area for shelter. In fact, there wasn’t anybody on the street near her at all. A car drove by every now and then, but apart from that, she was alone.

Elain dug into her bag and fished out her phone, to shoot a quick message to her sister. Feyre would probably be here soon: as costume designer she didn’t have to attend the first rehearsal, but since her boyfriends, friends and sister would be there, she would probably tag along. Elain still didn’t understand how it was possible for this particular group of people to stage a play that, if the theater critics were to be believed, looked like it would be a huge success: with the exception of her, they were practically family.

Rhysand, one of Feyre’s boyfriends, was the director and had organised this whole production. He had produced several plays before, most of them small, but this was his first in several years. It was larger than his previous ones, mostly due to all the attention he’d recently gotten in the media. 

Elain’s co-star Morrigan was Rhysand’s cousin. She would be playing one of the two main characters. Morrigan had been acting ever since she was born, though she’d only made the change from television to theatre a few years ago. This was her first time playing a lead, and if what Elain had heard was to be believed, she would be brilliant.

One of the other actors was Lucien, Feyre’s other boyfriend. He’d been working in theatre for decades, but had had several falling-outs with directors and co-stars, including some of his relatives, which made it a miracle he was still successfully acting. According to Elain, that was due to the fact that he was insanely talented and could talk his way into any part he could possibly want. Feyre’s theory was that he was too pretty to not be in the spotlight, which Elain secretly couldn’t disagree with.

Cassian, one of Rhysand’s brothers, was another actor. He was less well-known than the others but had been in the comedy scene for a few years, mostly doing improv. Elain had never met him, nor had she met Rhysand’s other brother Azriel, who would be the technician for this play. Feyre had told her plenty of stories about them though, and she was looking forward to meeting them both.

There was only one more character in their play and Elain actually didn’t know who would be playing them. She also didn’t know who would be doing hair and makeup, though that wasn’t as important considering they hadn’t even started rehearsing yet. She did know that Feyre would be in charge of costumes and decor, and that the play had been adapted by Amren, yet another friend of Feyre and Rhysand she had never met.

And then there was her, Elain Archeron, the girl with zero experience in acting, who had never been on stage before and was now suddenly playing one of the most important characters in one of the most important plays ever written.

For what seemed like the millionth time these past few weeks, Elain questioned why she’d ever agreed to this. She didn’t have time to follow that thought though: in the distance, she saw someone heading her way.

Rhysand waved to her when he was closer, and she shyly waved back. She’d met him a few times before and found him nice enough, if not a little intense. But this time was different: now, she wasn’t meeting him as his girlfriend’s sister, or perhaps even as his friend, but as an actor in the play that had to save his public image. A completely inexperienced, unfamiliar with any of the other cast members, last-minute added to the ensemble actor who hadn’t even auditioned and hadn’t read the full script yet.

Yeah, this time was _very_ different.

Rhysand didn’t seem to think so as he approached her, hands in his pockets, friendly smile on his lips. The rain didn’t seem to bother him, but she suspected he had parked his car nearby, since he didn’t seem all that wet. A black leather bag was slung over his shoulder, perfectly matching his all-black outfit. She’d never actually seen him wear another colour, though Feyre swore he owned some flannels and a grey sweater (she knew about the sweater, though: Feyre stole it often enough that Elain doubted it even belonged to Rhysand anymore).

“Morning, Elain.” He greeted her, moving to stand under the ledge with her. “You’re early, have you been waiting for long?” 

While talking to her, he had started rummaging in his bag, probably to find his keys. The bag was filled with documents that Elain assumed were their scripts and some other items, including, for some reason, a bright red bowler hat.

“Yeah, uh, good morning.” She quickly said, cursing herself for her squeaky voice. Now he’d definitely know she was nervous. She’d hoped she could hide that from him and the others - no need for them to know what a mess she was and besides, if she was supposed to be acting in this play, shouldn’t she be able to act cool as wel? 

Thankfully Rhysand didn’t comment on it, too occupied with his bag. He cursed under his breath before pulling some documents out, holding them out to Elain.

“Hold these for a minute, would you?” She wordlessly took the papers, noticing that they were, in fact, their scripts. She stared at the top page, with the play title in the middle, and the name of her co-star underneath, both bolded.

The red hat was placed on top of the papers and she snickered as she saw the pink bow on the side.

“That’s for Mor.” Rhysand said before pulling out his keys with a triumphant look on his face. “She claimed she wouldn’t be able to get into character without a costume, and since Feyre hasn’t started on those yet, I figured this would have to do.”

He took the hat and stuffed it in his bag again before taking the papers back. He flipped through them before finding a file and handing it to her.

“Here, this is your copy. It’s got the entirety of Amren’s adaptation in it - though knowing her, some things are bound to be changed during rehearsals, so don’t get too attached.”

Her script was identical to Morrigan’s, but with her name and character on it instead. And underneath that, where Morrigan’s page had been empty, is a small doodle of Elain, wearing a ridiculous hat, with a fake moustache and monocle. She smiled. Feyre must’ve gotten her hands on the script and decided to give her some encouragement.

Rhysand caught her looking at it and smirks.

“Apparently that’s Feyre’s vision for your costume.”

Elain’s head shot up, cheeks turning red when she sees his grin. For a second, she’d believed him, but his expression tells her that she will not have to perform with a giant, itchy moustache on her face.

Rhysand moved towards the main entrance and he opened the door for her in one smooth move.

“We’re using the main entrance?” Elain asked, hesitantly moving towards him.

“After today we won’t be, but I figured you might want to see this one first. The back door is not nearly as spectacular.” He said, motioning her inside. 

He guided her through the hallway, pointing out various things she vaguely remembers from all those years ago. They headed backstage and dropped their bags in a dressing room before Rhysand - who had in the meantime asked her to call him Rhys - ushered her onto the stage before disappearing behind a curtain. 

Elain stood there, in the middle of the stage, staring into the darkness in front of her. Rhys had gone to turn the lights on, but without them, she could barely see her own hands. She shuffled around, not wanting to accidentally fall, but too nervous to stay still. Her script was heavy in her hands and she ran her thumb over the wire binding the pages together, the cold metal somehow comforting. She’d just started wondering if Rhys was okay when the lights turned on.

She cursed their brightness and squeezed her eyes shut, holding her hand in front of them. When the spots finally disappeared from her vision, she lowered her hand and slowly opens her eyes again.

Elain was staring at row after row of red velvet seats, with two balconies stretching beyond her sight. There are giant murals to the side and even the ceiling is decorated. Everything is so big, and she is so small, and in a few weeks, all these seats will be taken, and they’ll all be looking at her...

“Quite a sight, huh?” She jumped at Rhys’ voice. He smirked.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He said. He’d grabbed his bag again and was standing in the front row, directly in front of her, but in her admiring of the view above, she hadn’t noticed him yet.

“The others should be here soon.” He added, taking a seat and pulling out a set of papers. “Feel free to wander around, have a look at the place. We’ll call for you when we’re ready.” 

Elain nodded, unable to form words, and headed backstage, quickly making her way to the dressing room she’d left her bag in. In her panic she couldn’t find it, and after running into the seventh dead end, she gave up. 

Her hands were trembling as she sat down in a corner, wrapping her arms around her knees and dropping the script in front of her. She pressed her head to her knees and took a deep breath. 

Yes, she was completely unqualified for this and had absolutely no experience, but Rhys had known that when he casted her. She hadn’t even auditioned: she’d helped him read some lines once and after that, he just asked her to be in the play. She didn’t want to get all conceited about this, but that had to mean he saw something in her, right? 

So she was going to keep breathing, and when they called for her, she was going to go up on that stage and give it her best shot. This performance meant a lot to Rhys and his friends. The least she could do was try, and if it didn’t work out, she’d ask them to find someone else. Hell, she’d help them find someone if she had to.

Besides, this was her chance to learn more about the world of theater like she always wanted. Though she might not want to be an actress, she did desperately want to work in the theater world.

Elain’s dream had always been to become a playwright. She’d written countless of little skits and sketches while growing up, always making her friends or sisters act them out. She’d tried to write some larger plays recently, but one giant obstacle was the fact that she knew so little about what went on backstage - it was rather difficult to focus on writing something well when she was always wondering if what she wanted would even be possible at all. So if she could get an inside view during her time here, it would definitely help her - and it also didn’t hurt that she might be able to get some contacts in the theater world.

She was still giving herself that mental pep talk when she heard footsteps in the distance, coming closer until black leather boots appeared in her vision

She slowly raised her head and looked at the person wearing the boots. The man had dark, short hair, only just falling on his forehead. His hazel eyes were unreadable, as was the rest of his gorgeously defined face. He was tall and muscled, and she saw swirls of dark tattoos peeking from his collar. His clothes, like his boots, were dark, and he had a file of papers thicker than hers in one of his hands.

Suddenly she realized that she’d been admiring him for longer than was considered polite. Elain scrambled to get up, narrowly avoiding falling or crushing her script. She thought she saw a hint of amusement on the stranger’s face, but it disappeared so quickly she wasn’t sure.

“Hi!” She blurted out when she finally stood, blushing furiously at how she was behaving. It was bad enough she was feeling like a nervous wreck, she didn’t have to act like one too.

“I’m Elain,” She added, sticking her hand out between them. 

Now, the stranger smiled, taking her hand in his own. His hands, she noticed, were horribly scarred and his palm felt rough against her own. 

“I’m Azriel”. He said. He squeezed her hand and let go, stuffing his own into his pocket.

“Oh, you’re the technician, right?” Elain asked. “Feyre told me about you.” 

“She didn’t say anything bad though!” She hurriedly added. “She only said that you, uh, do tech stuff. And that you’re Rhys’ brother.” 

“Yeah, that’s me.” He smiled politely. “And I’ve heard about you, too. Apparently, you’re our new star.”

Elain laughed nervously. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that…” She bit her lip and looked to the ground, hoping to hide her red cheeks. As she did so, she saw her script on the floor. She bent down to pick it up, bumping her head into something hard.

She staggered back, hand going to her head immediately. Azriel stood in front of her, her script in his hand, a sheepish smile on his face. 

“I’m sorry about that, are you okay?”

Elain nodded and took the script from him. She was glad to notice a hint of a blush on his face - at least she wasn’t the only one embarrassed by this whole ordeal.

“Anyways, I came to get you for rehearsal.” He said. “Most of us are here now, so Rhys wants to start.”

Elain nodded again, mentally cursing herself for it. She must seem like a fool, with all her blushing and nodding and awkwardness - what a first impression she must have made!

Azriel motioned towards the hallway and they started walking, falling into step next to each other.

“So, are you okay?” He asked after a few seconds, leading her back to the stage. “You look a bit nervous.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine! A bit nervous, yes, but I promise I can usually keep it together.” Elain admitted, following him around a corner.

He nodded but thankfully didn’t say anything else. Elain snuck a glance at him while they walked. He looked completely at ease in these hallways, as if he belonged back here. She supposed that, with him being a technician and all, he’d need that sense of familiarity, but she had secretly hoped he’d be as unnerved as she was. These damn theater people and their nerves of steel…

He seemed nice, though she did get the feeling he wasn’t much of a talker. Feyre really hadn’t told her much about him, but she had heard he was quiet and way too observant - there was no way to cheat at any game with him playing as well, which her sister found terribly annoying. 

They reached the stage, the sound of several people talking at once greeting them. She saw Rhys standing in the front row, talking with a dark-haired woman who was holding a tray of coffee cups. Feyre and Lucien sat on the edge of the stage, Feyre gesturing wildly with her hands while Lucien looked on with an amused smile. Another man, with the same build and complexion as Azriel and Rhys but with longer hair stood in a corner, talking to someone of the phone while drinking coffee.

Azriel immediately walked towards the man who she assumed was Cassian, and took the phone from him. Cassian didn’t appear too bothered by this and continued drinking his coffee, listening to the call with a smirk. He looked a lot like Rhys and Azriel, but his shoulders were broader and he seemed more at ease on stage - Azriel had stepped back into the wings while talking, and Rhys hadn’t set foot on the stage at all.

Elain was moving towards her sister and Lucien, hoping they could give her some encouragement, when someone suddenly blocked her path.

“Coffee?” The raven-haired woman she’d seen talking with Rhys moments ago held a cup out to her. Elain accepted it with a small smile.

“I’m Nuala,” The woman said, tucking the empty coffee tray under her arm. “I work as Rhys’ assistant and I’m in charge of hair and makeup.”

“Oh, I was wondering who would do that!” Elain exclaimed, and after moving her script and coffee around, she stuck out her now-free hand towards Nuala. “I’m Elain Archeron, nice to meet you.”  
Nuala shook her hand with a small smile before excusing herself and walking back to Rhys. Elain looked around, wondering what to do while waiting - at least, that was what she assumed they were doing. She still hadn’t seen Morrigan or whoever would be the fifth actor, and they couldn’t really begin practicing when almost half of the cast wasn’t there yet. 

Cassian and Azriel, who was no longer on the phone, were talking and flipping through the script. Rhys and Nuala were also discussing something, Nuala taking notes while Rhys gestured wildly. Feyre and Lucien watched him, her head on his shoulder. Elain didn’t want to interrupt any important conversations, so she sat down, still in the middle of the stage, and flipped open her script.

Waiting for Godot, written by Samuel Beckett, had been one of her favorite plays ever since she read it years ago for a French class. The way he managed to create such a captivating play when the setting was fairly boring had always amazed her, and she’d spent several classes discussing Godot with her teacher and some other students, though none had been as invested in it as she was. Her love for the play had been the reason she was here: she’d only offered to help Rhys run through the lines because she was curious to read Amren’s adaptation of it. 

Amren did not disappoint: the script had been modernized a little, and the main characters were now female instead of male, but most of the play had remained unchanged. Elain was halfway through the first act when Rhys called out.

“Okay, where the hell is Mor? She was supposed to be here half an hour ago.”

“She’s on her way.”Azriel said, appearing in front of the stage. Cassian followed him, winking at her when he saw her looking at him. “There was a shoe emergency in her building.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. He and Nuala moved to where Feyre and Lucien still sat on the edge of the stage, where Azriel and Cassian joined them as well. Cassian sat down on one of the front row seats, kicking his feet up so they rested on the edge of the stage. 

“Shoe emergency? What, couldn’t she figure out if she should wear black or grey heels?”

Everyone laughed, but Elain didn’t join them. Was that really the type of person she would have to work with, someone who is late to important rehearsals because of a shoe dilemma? She stared at her own pink, worn-down sneakers and, not for the first time that day, wanted to disappear. If Morrigan was really like that, if she really cared that much about her looks and not at all about the people she was working with, Elain didn’t know if she could handle it. 

“Actually,” A smooth voice interrupted Elain’s thoughts and stopped the laughing in the front row, “I was torn between this one pair that screamed ‘kick Rhys’ ass’ and another that was more, ‘kick Rhys’ ass but start up front’, if you know what I mean.”

The laughter was even louder this time, but Elain didn’t pay attention to it. Instead, she turned and looked towards the wings, where the voice was coming from. A beautiful, blonde-haired woman emerged from them. She immediately spotted Elain, who was still sitting on the floor. The woman walked towards her, a friendly smile on her face.

“Hi, I’m Morrigan. You must be Elain.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this! If you have any questions, want to know more about this AU or just want to say hi, you can find me on tumblr: PaintedVelaris


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